


It Never Ends

by ottermo



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 19:25:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1238119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottermo/pseuds/ottermo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a time before yellow car.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Never Ends

The rucksack mum presses into his hands is Arthur's old one; worn from years of everyday use, the colour faded and the stitching coming away at the handle slightly. He runs a finger lightly down the join, because sometimes, you can heal things by being gentle. Maybe.

The road stretches out before them, on and on. There are cars flying past in the other direction, and Arthur wonders what all those people are leaving behind in the same way he might, on any other day, have wondered where they were going. 

He rests his head on the window. The hum of the car's engine is easier to hear this way, and maybe if he listens hard enough he'll stop hearing shouting in the silences that make up the new life he started this morning.

"None of this is your fault, Arthur." 

Mum's words come crisp and certain through the air. Well, all right. That must be the way it is then, because mum is very comfortable with telling Arthur when things _are_ his fault. There seems to be no reason for him to doubt her now. So he nods.

"And we're going to be all right, you and me." 

Again, as a statement it makes sense. They've always been all right together - they've been brilliant together. He accepts it as fact, and slumps down a little in his chair.

You and me. _Without Dad._

It's the last two words, unspoken but unmistakable, that twist the lump in his throat round and round, until it gets so big he thinks he might choke on it. 

And that doesn't make any sense, really, does it. Because Mum makes him feel happy and cared for and safe, and she's right next to him in the driver's seat. Dad makes him feel stupid and anxious and a little bit scared, and he's miles and miles and miles away. So it's the right way round. It's no reason to cry. 

He doesn't even wipe his face dry. He's tired, so tired.

Maybe mum sees, maybe she doesn't. The next thing she says is, "Let's play a game."

Arthur has never felt less like playing a game in his life. 

"Look out of the window. And every time you see a car that's yellow, say 'yellow car'."

He doesn't move. Maybe if he just stays here, he'll fall asleep. Maybe if he falls asleep, he won't have to wake up.

"Yellow car."

Maybe he can sleep until morning. Mornings are brilliant, probably. They were once. Maybe they can be again. 

"Yellow car."

He jerks upright. "Hey! That one wasn't yellow, it was gold!"

Mum gives the smallest of smiles. "I didn't think you were playing."

Eyes wide now, he leans forward in his seat, as if the extra few inches are going to reveal a vehicular hue that was previously invisible. "How does the game end?"

"It doesn't." 

It's nice when things have a sort of forever-ness about them. Lots of things don't. 

"Brilliant! Yellow car."

"Ah! You're a natural."

 _Black, red, blue, silver, silver, green, red._

Sometimes, it's easy to find the brilliant things in life.

_Silver, black, silver, blue, white, black, cream._

Sometimes, you have to look maybe a little harder.

_Green, white, white, black, silver, blue, grey._

But they're there, and you can find them.

"Yellow car!"

So you can't cry.

_Red, black, green, black, silver, blue, blue._

And you can't close your eyes.

_Grey, brown, blue, black, red, grey, red._

Because the next car that comes along just might be yellow.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of divorce-kid feelings about Arthur. St Pete is my favourite episode, but there are lines of his that are just painful to hear. What a craftsman The Finnemore is. Thanks for reading!


End file.
